


to hold you in my arms

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve keeps telling himself that Tony is just a friend. It's better this way. Apparently, Tony has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to hold you in my arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicasen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicasen/gifts).



> I know I promised you a different thing, but, well, it wasn't working out. I'm sorry. But I wanted to finally write something for you, so hopefully you'll like it. Happy really late birthday?
> 
> Thanks for beta to [nightwalker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwalker)!
> 
> (This takes place after Avengers vol. 4, before Steve and Tony gather the team in vol. 5, in a happy no-incursions land)

Steve can't help but look as Tony stumbles into the kitchen, his hair sleep-rumpled. There's a red mark on his cheek, as if from a wrinkled pillow. He's squinting against the light, and he reaches up to push his hair out of his forehead. His pyjama top raises, uncovering his stomach, a trail of black hair—

Steve chokes on his juice.

Tony turns to look at him, and Steve coughs a bit to cover his reaction. “Your coffee.” He points at the mug next to him when he's reasonably sure he can speak again.

Tony smiles with his whole face. “You're a life saver,” he says, and something warm settles in Steve's stomach. He likes seeing his friends happy, he explains to himself.

Speaking of friends . . . “So, Avengers?” he asks. Steve sees Tony grip the mug tighter, until his knuckles go white.

“Yeah, we should start on that,” he says in a carefully neutral voice. His face is an unreadable mask now.

Steve hates it when Tony closes off from him.

“It can wait,” he says. “We do deserve some time off.” And it's not as if there aren't teams to protect New York—and tens of superheroes who show up to do it anyway, because it's in their blood.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Steve Rogers, talking about holidays. Should I check if you're not a Skrull?” he asks. He sounds amused, and it's much better than his earlier tone. 

Steve smiles at him. “I figured I might try. Obviously you won't give up the workaholic role here.”

Except every time when Steve breached the new team subject, Tony either tried to shrug it off or looked like it pained him. It's obvious something's bothering him, but Steve doesn't know how to ask.

And it's not as if he's exactly new to feeling apprehensive about forming a new team. He can guess a few reasons himself. But he feels that as long as he's with Tony, everything will go fine, and he's optimistic about this new team they agreed to make. He's not really worried about that, if Tony promised, he will do it, but—Steve doesn't want him to feel forced. He keeps hoping Tony would _talk_ to him on his own, because he's never quite learnt how to ask him questions Tony doesn't want to answer without Tony retreating to his workshop for days. 

Sometimes it's as if Tony doesn't want to worry Steve, which is ridiculous. He helps shoulder so many of Steve's problems. Why doesn't he believe Steve would be happy to do the same for him?

And it's not as if _this_ isn't making Steve worry. Tony seems fine with him, but what if he noticed? What if he doesn't want to be on a team with him?

They're _friends_ , Steve firmly tells himself for the hundredth time, but you don't think of licking the layer of milk left after drinking coffee from your friend's lips, you don't want to back them up and put a hand down their way too loose pants that show off their hipbones (that's just cruel, Steve thinks), you certainly don't have notebooks filled with pictures of them, of every single detail, of their long fingers and lean arms and even their feet, of their eyes, crinkling in smile, of Tony's lips, just waiting to be kissed—

So, this might be a bit of a problem.

But Steve can ignore it. He can. He just hopes that if it is that, if Tony finally caught on, Steve isn't making him uncomfortable. 

He looks at him again, worried now. Tony seems perfectly content, inhaling his coffee. At some point he must've stopped long enough to eat his pancake, because his plate is empty. It's good, Steve thinks; Tony has a tendency to skip meals if he's stressed. 

Tony meets his eyes and smiles at him. Steve relaxes minutely. “Good pancakes,” Tony says. “No, can't read your mind, you were staring at my plate. I'll tell Jarvis he can have holidays more often. We won't starve.”

“He won't believe you,” Steve says.

Tony finishes his coffee and licks his lips. Steve watches as if he was hypnotised. Tony has nice lips, very pale pink and soft-looking. Steve wants to—

 _Friends_ , he reminds himself and forces himself to look away, fixes his gaze on the blank wall behind Tony's head. 

“Oh, but he'll believe Captain America,” Tony says.

Steve frowns. This doesn't make any sense. “Why would he believe me over you?”

Tony shrugs, smiles in that self-deprecating way Steve hates. “You're Captain America,” he says. “I'm . . .”

“Iron Man, an Avenger, a _good man_ , brave man, a man who helped me _survive_ after you found me in the ice, who gave me a home—” This is getting too personal, this is not the point, Steve tells himself. “Jarvis practically brought you up. He cares about you. He's—”

“Okay,” Tony interrupts him, raising his hands. “Okay. Point taken. It's Jarvis, you're right, I'm still half-asleep and I've no idea what I'm saying, uh, I should go work on the armour—” He moves to get up.

“Tony,” Steve says quietly, and Tony freezes. “What's wrong?”

Tony looks at the door, as if he's still considering just bolting without giving him any answers, and Steve's kinda expecting this, or maybe just the smile he usually only gives the press, but instead Tony sighs and sits back down.

“What are we doing here, Steve?” he asks quietly.

Panic overcomes Steve. This means Tony _noticed_. And—is he going to let him down gently?

“Look,” Tony continues. “The Avengers—I said we were going to do it. The world needs Avengers. _We_ need Avengers, really. Neither of us knows a different life.” He huffs a laugh. “Sad as the notion is.”

“I like this life,” Steve says. “I get to help people. I . . .” _I get to be with you_.

Tony covers his face with his hands and leans back. “It went down terribly, that first time. The second time, we fought a war that killed you. Simon was right, Steve, we _are_ dangerous.”

“And we rebuilt each time, stronger,” Steve argues. 

“I know,” Tony says. “It's kinda what I do.” He sighs. “I don't know why this time is different—Jan is back, it should be easier than ever, and yet . . .”

“That futurist thing,” Steve says, “turned you into a terrible pessimist, Tony.”

It's not even the truth. Tony's looking to the bright, optimistic future he wants to see. He's just—scared. Steve thinks he's scared of failing to bring it to them.

But this is not his job.

Steve speaks again before Tony has a chance to. “Look, Tony—it might end in a disaster again. I can't say it won't. But we _are_ stronger. We can get through _anything_ together now.” Even if Steve wants a different _together_ than Tony does, clearly.

Tony smiles weakly. “When you say it like that, I believe you,” he says. “But—well, Steve. You said it yourself. _Together_. Can we?”

Steve's cold all over. It's a stupid crush, it'll pass—he's been telling himself that for years now—it'll pass. It's not a reason for Tony to—to kick him out.

“It's obvious this became a problem for you,” Tony's saying and Steve winces. “You can barely look at me anymore. I'm sorry—I never wanted to make you that uncomfortable. I thought—I thought I could hide it, I've been hiding it for _years_ , but maybe it's harder when it's just the two of us here, and anyway, that's not a point, but—I'm sorry, Steve, I will go if you don't want—”

_What?_

Steve raises a hand, flat out, to stop Tony from speaking further. For a moment, he can't find any words. He drinks the rest of his juice to wet his mouth and then stares at Tony. “ _You_ 've been hiding _it_ for years.”

Tony's pale. His voice trembles for just a moment. “Don't make me say it.”

Steve shakes his head slowly. Maybe he's dreaming. Maybe he's in an alternate reality. He should check it. This couldn't mean what it sounded like. “I—I was sure you wanted to tell me to get out,” Steve lets out. 

Tony stares at him. “I'd never—”

“I've been in love with you for years,” Steve says, and it's simultaneously the most scary thing he's ever done, and the best—for a short few seconds he feels amazing, finally having admitted what he's been trying to hide even from himself—and then it hits him.

Tony knows now. Tony knows, and there's no going back. What if Steve misunderstood him? What if . . . ?

Tony's looking at him with wide eyes. “I'm hallucinating,” he declares.

“I really hope not,” Steve utters.

“You're in love with me,” Tony repeats, and he sounds almost giddy. “I—I was prepared to move out, leave this team we haven't even started yet—all because I thought you noticed my stupid lifelong crush on you, and—you're in love with me.” He's smiling, almost too wide, and he looks happier than Steve has ever seen him. 

He wants to pull him in, he wants to kiss him, because now apparently he can, and he curses this table between them.

“I love you,” Tony repeats. “And you—you—you—” He's looking straight at Steve, as if he's afraid he got it mixed up somehow after all.

“I love you too, Tony,” Steve says, and then he thinks _fuck this_ , pushes the table aside—he thinks it doesn't knock into anything but he doesn't really care, as as soon as the space between them is free, Tony's straddling Steve's lap, and he's kissing him, his goatee teasing Steve's skin the best sensation ever. Tony's lean, and Steve crosses his arms behind him and pulls him in closer, kisses him again and again, feeling almost drunk with emotions. Or—something else. Tony wouldn't like that comparison.

They separate, but Tony leans his forehead pressed into Steve's, and he's smiling. “I'm not taking it the wrong way, am I?”

“And neither am I, right?” Steve asks, and they laugh again.

“Some genius I am,” Tony comments.

Steve pats him on his arm. “I'm supposed to be a strategist.”

“You need a team for that,” Tony says suddenly. “Actually, _we_ need a team. Now that we're gonna stay together. We should ask Carol, and she won't come without Jess, and Jan maybe, I miss Jan, I—” He sounds more excited than he has in ages.

Steve kisses him once, gently, but it does shut him up.

“I've been telling you this for weeks,” he says. “And we'll get there. But first, don't you want to enjoy having the Tower all to ourselves for a bit more?”

Tony's face breaks into a grin. “I wouldn't have expected that from you, Cap,” he says, but it's obvious he's joking. “A wonderful plan. You might get your strategist title back.”

Steve smiles, brings him closer and kisses him again and again and again.

It's a good beginning of the day. He can't wait for the rest of it.


End file.
